User blog:Tater Chip Girl/Where Your Loyalties Lie - Chapter 02
DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter universe and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made from this story and any copyright infringement is completely unintended. Other characters created for this story are mine and should not be used in other materials or at other websites without my permission. WARNINGS: Consensual non-graphic M/F sex; consensual non-graphic M/M sex; some strong language and violence. PAIRINGS: Snape/Hermione, Harry/Ron, Dumbledore/? Voldemort "Come in," Snape muttered testily at the timid knock on his office door. So absorbed was he in the grading of students' written reports (quite badly written, in his opinion), he barely noticed the door swing open, then quietly shut behind his visitor, who stepped in and stood before his desk. "I'm sorry to bother you, Professor - " she began in a hesitant half-whisper. Snape looked up in annoyance and almost gasped when he saw who was there. He took a moment to regain his composure, hoping he looked sufficiently stern and forbidding, before trusting himself to speak again. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he said briskly, lowering his eyes to his desk again. He fervently hoped she couldn't tell that his hand was now shaking as he picked up his quill. "Speak quickly. As you can see, I'm quite busy." Hermione's throat clicked as she swallowed nervously. "Well ... I, uh ... " Snape arched an eyebrow and lowered his quill to glare at the girl. "Well ... " she said again, fiddling with her robe. "Actually ... I need your help with something." "So ... " Snape's head tilted to the side a bit, his voice taking on its familiar mocking tone. "For once, Miss-Know-It-All has no answer. I shall certainly note *this* day on my calendar." Hermione's brow knit with frustration. It was bad enough she had to come to him at all, and he wasn't making things any easier. Best get on with it, so she could get out of here as soon as possible. She cast her eyes around the room, trying hard not to cry, but a tear escaped and made a shiny trail down her cheek. She rubbed it away viciously with the back of her hand and forced herself to look at Snape. "I'm serious," she said, rather more forcefully than she'd intended. "I think someone's cast a spell on me, or slipped me a potion, or something, and I ... " She shook her head helplessly as her voice trailed off. "And you ... what?" Snape's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, suddenly feeling very ... possessive? Protective? (He quickly reminded himself that she was his neither to possess *nor* protect.) "I've tried dozens of counterspells and potions, and none of them worked." She paused and swallowed again before continuing. "I didn't want to bother you with this, but I really don't know what else to do." A long moment dragged by as Snape settled back into his chair and regarded her through still-narrowed eyes. Another tear trickled down her face, and she let it go as she waited for him to say something. Snape's mind threw up an image of himself leaning down to wipe it away, saying Don't worry, I'll take care of everything ... He shoved it away and hardened his expression. "And what, precisely, do you want *me* to do?" She wiped the tear away finally and sniffed. "I was thinking ... maybe I did something wrong, with the counterspells and things, and that's why they didn't work." Her eyes skittered back and forth over Snape's face, looking for the smallest sign she was getting through to him. "I thought maybe you'd know a way to ... reverse the effect, or something, get rid of this ... whatever it is." "I see." His forefinger tapped out a slow, precise rhythm on the desktop as his black eyes glittered at her. He steepled his fingers and touched them to his chin. After a painfully long moment, he spoke again. "Tell me, Miss Granger - since you seem to know *almost* everything - perhaps you can enlighten me as to how you reached your conclusion?" Snape's eyebrows shot up in a mockingly quizzical fashion as he waited for her answer. "Con - conclusion?" Hermione stammered, shaking her head. Snape heaved a pained sigh. "In other words, Miss Granger, by what brilliant chain of reasoning did you deduce that you are the victim of a spell?" Hermione stared at the floor, her face going bright crimson. She worked her mouth as if about to say something, but Snape heard only soundless puffs of air. "Kindly speak up. I haven't got all day," he snapped at her. She swallowed a few times, then forced herself to look up again. After a few deep breaths, she was able to speak. "Well ... I think someone's slipped me a ... uh ... love potion." Snape gave a snort of disgust. "How delightfully juvenile." His nostrils flared as he continued, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I take it, then, that you are "in love"? With a sigh of resignation, Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. "A malady to which young people are unfortunately all too prone, in my opinion." Snape said snidely. "Which brings us, Miss Granger, back to my original question." "Uh ... which one, sir?" Hermione's voice was trembling. "Given the notoriously rampant nature of youthful infatuation," he sneered, "what precisely about this "love" has led you to label it a result of magical interference? Especially," he added, "since love potions are forbidden at Hogwarts?" She blew out a shaky breath as she considered how to answer. "Well ... " she began, "It's just that ... the person that I'm, you know ... " She dared a glance back up at Snape, then quickly looked away again. "That you're 'in love' with, yes ... " Snape gestured impatiently for her to go on. "This person," she continued, "Is someone I, uh ... well ... who's ... unlikely, if you know what I mean." Snape sat forward a bit, apparently enjoying her discomfort. "No ... " he said, tapping his fingertips together. "What *do* you mean, Miss Granger?" Please let this end soon, Hermione thought desperately. "Someone I ... don't get along with," she answered softly. "In fact, I know he doesn't like me at all. And then it started so suddenly ... one day I just looked at him, and - " Hermione gave an embarrassed shrug, unable to finish. "And when did this - " Snape waved a hand dismissively - "obsession ... of yours begin?" "Uh ... a few months ago," she lied, cringing slightly. "I - I thought it would go away on its own, so I waited before I tried any counterspells." Settling into his chair again, Snape regarded her with what looked like amusement. "And so, here you are." Hermione stepped closer to his desk, her trembling hands clasped tightly to her stomach. "Please help me, Professor. I really don't know what else to do. You're the only one who can do something about this." Snape narrowed his eyes again, more to disguise his feelings than to show them. The girl was clearly in distress. And knowing what he did of Hermione Granger, she was more often to be found giving help than seeking it. The sight of her standing before him, wringing her hands and begging with tear-filled eyes, came very close to breaking what little was left of his heart. You fool, he told himself harshly,'' letting a mere schoolgirl affect you this way. Give her what she needs and get her the hell out of here before you do something stupid.'' Snape pushed himself abruptly to his feet and stared at her for a moment before speaking. "Wait here." Hermione watched nervously as he disappeared into the next room. She heard a cabinet door opening, then bottles clinking against each other as Snape searched through them. He returned a moment later carrying a small stoppered bottle made of brown glass. As he walked around to the front of his desk, she turned to face him, setting her bag full of books on the floor behind her. "Drink this." He handed her the bottle, careful not to let their fingers touch. She stared fearfully at the bottle before looking back up at him. "What does it do, exactly?" "It's a counter-potion," he explained, a bit more patiently than she'd expected. "the strongest of its kind available. If these - feelings of yours were caused by magical intervention, this will reverse its effect." "And if ... if they're real?" "Then it will do nothing." "Right." Hermione returned her gaze to the bottle in her hand. "Right," she repeated, turning the bottle back and forth. She tried to remove the glass stopper, but to no avail - her fingers were slick with nervous moisture. "Give me that." Snape snatched the bottle away and pulled out the stopper with a deft motion, depositing it on his desk and holding the bottle out for her to take. When she did, her hand shook so badly she almost dropped it. "Careful ... " Snape's hand closed around hers, holding it still. "This is my only bottle. Spill this, and you'll have to wait another two weeks while I prepare a new batch." With great effort, he kept his own hand from trembling as well. "Sorry ... " she whispered. Funny, how warm his skin was. From the look of him, she'd assumed his touch would be clammy and cold, especially given all the time he spent in the dungeon. "Alright?" he asked, almost kindly. "Have you got it?" Hermione nodded, and Snape let go. Her hand started shaking again immediately. She tried unsuccessfully to lift the bottle to her mouth, and a few drops splashed out and landed on the stone floor. Snape grabbed her hand again. "This isn't working." She shot him a nervous glance, fully expecting one of his trademark tirades. "I'll help you hold it still," he said calmly, taking her by surprise. "You bend down, close your lips around the bottle, and tilt it back into your mouth." He waited as Hermione did as he'd instructed, releasing her hand so she could drink the contents. Her dry throat constricted as the bitter liquid went down, and she started coughing sharply. Snape took the bottle and set it on his desk beside a pitcher, from which he poured her a glass of water. Hermione drank it greedily, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her robe afterwards. "That was *horrible*!" she rasped, her face screwed up in disgust as she coughed a few more times. "I never said it would be pleasant," Snape replied stiffly, taking the glass from her. "I said only that it would work." Hermione sniffed and wiped at her eyes, which had watered from her coughing fit. "How long until it starts working?" she asked, her voice a bit stronger now. Snape replaced the bottle's stopper and set the empty container back on his desk. "It should take effect immediately." "Oh ... " Hermione's eyes moved back and forth, focusing on nothing, as she appeared to listen suspensefully to some inner voice. A small frown creased her brow. "Well?" Snape stood stonily before her, arms crossed over his chest. Her frown deepened, and a look of confusion crossed her face. "I ... I don't understand ... " she whispered, shaking her head. "Nothing happened." Hermione raised her alarmed eyes to search Snape's face. "It didn't *do* anything." Snape responded only with a raised eyebrow and a slight sideways tilt of his head. "What's it supposed to feel like? I mean ... " Hermione unconsciously placed a hand over her heart. "Do the feelings just - go away, like they were never there?" "They should." Snape unfolded his arms and reached out with one hand to tilt the girl's head back as he turned her face from side to side, examining it closely. "Assuming, as I said, that your feelings were indeed magically induced." He studied her intently for a moment. "Have your feelings changed?" Hermione's throat constricted with another tense swallow before she replied. "No." Snape released her chin. "Then it appears, Miss Granger, that they are genuine - something I'm sure the object of your affections will be most pleased to hear." "I can't tell him." Hermione looked about to cry again, but managed to maintain her composure. "He'd just laugh in my face." "Pity." Snape was about to continue when his eyes suddenly hardened, and he let out a hiss of pain, his right hand flying up to grasp his left forearm. Hermione jumped a little, her eyes fixed on the spot he covered. Snape massaged the inside of his arm, clearly trying to hide his distress. "You're dismissed, Miss Granger," he growled from behind clenched teeth. "It hurts you," she whispered, watching his hand move. "The Dark Mark - he hurts you with it, doesn't he?" Now it was Snape's turn to be alarmed. "You don't know what you're talking about. Now please leave!" Hermione looked up again, taking in Snape's barely disguised agony. "I know you have it," she pressed. "I saw it in the hospital wing, right after Cedric Diggory died." He hissed again and clenched his teeth harder, tightening his grip on the offending arm. "Get out!" His face gave up its struggle for composure, contorting as another wave of pain sent him to his knees before the desk. "Oh my god ... " Hermione knelt in front of him, her hands fluttering desperately, moving to touch him, then pulling back. "What should I do? Should I call Professor Dumbledore?" "No!" Snape managed to grind out between agonized gasps. "Get out, just get out, damn you!" Hermione's hands went to her mouth, then stretched out to hover in midair. She knew something had to be done, but she wasn't sure what. Pull up his sleeve, some instinct told her. Expose the Mark. Hardly able to believe what she was doing, Hermione obeyed the silent voice within her, grasping Snape's left wrist firmly in one hand and yanking back the long sleeve of his jacket with the other. "What are you ... doing?" Snape gasped, too gripped by pain to try and stop her. "Are you ... mad? Get ... out!" Her eyes widened as the Dark Mark of Lord Voldemort - a skull with a Slytherin serpent emerging from its mouth - came into view. Two years earlier, she'd heard Snape tell Cornelius Fudge that the Mark turned black and burned like fire when the Dark Lord turned his attention towards those who bore it. From what she saw, there could be no doubt where Voldemort's focus now lay. Driven by the same inexplicable instinct, Hermione pressed her palm to the Mark, closing her eyes and gripping Snape's forearm as tightly as she could. She blanched as the thing made contact with her skin. The sensation it caused was beyond description, a wildly fluctuating mixture of white heat and icy chill that rattled her very bones. "Lumos Cardia!" she whispered. Snape stiffened and sucked in a long, ragged breath. Though his eyes were open, he saw nothing - his mind was taken over by something he had no words for, as though he had stepped from frigid darkness into a brilliant shaft of sunlight. It pierced him with a golden purity that left him breathless. The force assaulting Snape was doing its level best to throw Hermione off and have its way with him, but she held on, gritting her teeth as she willed her hand to grip harder and harder. Her arm vibrated all the way to the shoulder, and waves of nausea coursed through her.Gathering all her strength, Hermione gave a giant mental shove, and the force responded, driving an icy spike of pain through her body before snatching itself away with incredible violence. Hermione gasped and opened her eyes to the shocked face of Severus Snape floating before her. Releasing his arm, she forced herself to back up and start crawling - about four feet away, near the corner of his office, the contents of her stomach came up. Again and again her gut contracted, splattering a noxious black substance onto the bare stone. In stunned silence, Snape watched her, not even turning away from the foul stench of her vomit. He knew that odor all too well, having produced it himself on many occasions. Only the touch of the Dark Lord could wring such a fluid from a living body. But what the hell had just happened? By all rights, Snape should be in her place right now. Instead, his body tembled with tiny thrills, remnants of the light that had flooded and blinded him only seconds ago. When Hermione finally stopped gagging, she spit a few times, then sat up on her knees and scooted away from the vile pool on the floor. With some effort, Snape made himself speak. "What did you do?" he whispered. "What the bloody hell did you do?" Hermione wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her robe. "I don't know." She looked up to find Snape's face going in and out of focus as he stared at her with an expression of fearful wonder. She blinked a few times, trying unsuccessfully to merge the wavering images of two Snapes back into one. "I don't feel very well," she said weakly, and tumbled forward, landing on her elbows. Oh, that feels so good, she thought as her forehead pressed against the cool stone. All she wanted to do was stay still, right where she was, but that awful vomit smell was going to make her sick again if she didn't move soon. "Miss Granger." Snape's voice sounded very far away, and echoed oddly. Hermione felt his hands on her, taking her by the arms and making her sit up. "Hermione," he said, a bit louder this time. "Can you stand? We have to get you to the hospital wing." She nodded, and he pulled her up slowly and carefully, holding her by the upper arms. As soon as she reached her feet, she started swaying dangerously, and her knees gave way, sending her tumbling against him. Snape swung her up into his arms and held her for a moment, looking around the room as he decided what to do next. With a quick glance at the pool of vomit, he carried Hermione into the next room and deposited her gently on the floor. She made no sound, just lay blinking deliriously at her surroundings. "Miss Granger," he said firmly, patting her face and making her look at him. "I'm going to leave you here for a moment. Stay still and be quiet. I'll be back soon." He patted her face again. "Do you understand me?" Hermione nodded, and he returned to his office, closing the door behind him. Straightening his robes and running a quick hand through his hair, he made his way briskly through the Potions classroom and into the hallway, where he looked for a teacher. There were none, and he had no time to wait. "You there," Snape called out, pointing at a passing third-year. "Come here." The lone boy stopped and looked around nervously. "Uh ... me, sir?" Snape's lips tightened in irritation. "I see no one standing beside you. Come here immediately," he snapped, gesturing impatiently. The student approached him fearfully. "What did I do, sir?" "I need you to carry a message for me," Snape said, ignoring the question. "I trust you'll be able to remember it?" "Yes, sir." "My message is for the Headmaster. I would like Professor Dumbledore to meet me in the hospital wing." The boy nodded. "Yes, sir." "What is your name?" Snape asked him. "Roger Davies, sir. Ravenclaw House." "Now, repeat the message to me." Davies did so correctly. "Very good, Mr. Davies. Now go and deliver it immediately," Snape said, with a backwards glance at his open office door. "Ten points to Ravenclaw if you do so with sufficient speed." Davies' face brightened at this unexpected incentive from the feared Potions Master. "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" When the boy was out of sight, Snape returned to his office and the room where he'd left Hermione. She hadn't moved, and looked up groggily when he walked in. Once again, he lifted her into his arms, settling her head as comfortably as possible on his shoulder. With a few whispered words, he locked the office door, then carried the girl further back into his storage rooms. Snape knew just about every shortcut in Hogwarts; one of them went directly from his offices to the hospital wing. Hermione's head lolled against him as he walked. Somewhere in her mental fog, she became aware of a faint, but pleasant herbal scent. She breathed in deeply a few times before she realized it was coming from Snape's hair, which was just the right length that it tickled her nose. The side of her face was pressed into the silky fabric of his robe, her mouth positioned right next to his ear. "You smell so good ... " she murmured, rolling her face closer to his hair. If Snape had any reaction to her words, he hid it well, never missing a stride as they advanced towards the hospital wing. A concerned Dumbledore was waiting when Snape arrived. Together, they laid Hermione on a bed at the far end of the room as Madam Pomfrey approached them. "Well, what have we here?" she said, her tone efficient and professional. Dumbledore held up a hand. "In a moment, Poppy. I'll call you when we're ready." The woman's eyes went from Dumbledore to Snape to the figure of the girl on the bed. "Are you quite sure, sir?" "Yes, thank you." Reluctantly, but with a respectful nod, Madam Pomfrey retreated, still looking worriedly at Hermione. Dumbledore waited until she was far enough away to give them some privacy, using those few seconds to discreetly study Snape, whose eyes were fixed on Hermione's face. "Severus." Snape didn't look up when the Headmaster said his name. Dumbledore waited a moment, then loudly cleared his throat, making him jump. "What happened?" Dumbledore said quietly. "Tell me everything." As Snape related the events that had taken place in his office, Dumbledore watched him closely, noting especially the nervous movements of his hand, which danced unconsciously atop the mattress towards Hermione's as if he meant to grasp it, then pulled back at the last second. It was clear to him that Snape was not, in fact, telling him everything. It was equally clear that some profound change had taken place in the man. He wore the air of one whose heretofore ironclad beliefs had been unceremoniously ripped asunder without warning, leaving him struggling with a new and terrible truth. When Snape had finished his story, Dumbledore reached down and placed a hand on Hermione's forehead, and the two men stood in silence for a few moments. Hermione moaned and opened her eyes drowsily, trying to focus on Dumbeldore's face. "Where am I?" "In the hospital wing," he said quietly. "Don't worry, my dear, everything's alright." Hermione rolled her head to the other side and saw Snape's shadowy figure standing over her. For a split second, her vision cleared enough to reveal the fearful expression he wore. But it was more than just that ... his eyes were filled with a desperate longing, like a thirsty man looking at a glass of cool water. Hermione blinked and frowned as her vision clouded again. "Am I dreaming?" she whispered. "Sshhh, be still," Dumbledore said gently. He gave her hand a squeeze, then turned and signalled to Madam Pomfrey that they were ready for her. "What's happened to her?" she asked upon reaching the girl's bedside. "Nothing a good night's rest won't cure," he smiled. "Bring something to make her sleep." "Yes, sir." "I want Professor Snape to remain with her a while," he added. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape's head snap up. "You are to let him stay as long as he feels is necessary." Madam Pomfrey frowned at the bending of visiting rules, but didn't argue. "Of course. I'll fetch the sleeping draught." When she had gone, Dumbledore walked around the bed to stand beside Snape. "Given the nature of what has happened," he whispered, "Your help will be needed in her recovery." "What should I do?" Snape whispered back, his hand doing its unwitting dance on the mattress again. "Stay with her," Dumbledore answered. "It will come to you." Snape turned to him, frowning, a question on his lips, but Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to return, bearing a small cup in her hand. "Would one of you help her sit up, please?" Dumbeldore stepped back, gesturing for Snape to comply with Madam Pomfrey's request. With great care, he slid his arm underneath Hermione's shoulders and brought her to a sitting position, holding her firmly so she wouldn't flop back down on the bed. "Come now, dear, drink this up." Hermione managed to open her eyes halfway as the cup was pressed to her lips. She felt a tender hand tilting her chin up as her mouth was opened. "There you go, there's a good girl ... " When all the liquid was gone, Snape lowered her onto the bed again. "She should sleep through the night now," said Madam Pomfrey. "Will you be needing anything, Professor?" "No, thank you," Snape answered distantly. As Madam Pomfrey walked away, Dumbledore waved a hand, conjuring up a set of tall, thick curtains and swishing them closed around Hermione's bed. They hung in midair, high enough so that no one could see over them, and their hems rested on the floor, effectively creating a private room. "Dinner should be ready soon." Dumbledore stepped away and parted the curtains. "I'll make your excuses, and have a meal sent up for you." "I'm not hungry," Snape muttered, still staring at the slumbering girl. "You haven't a choice in the matter," said Dumbledore. "You need your strength, for her sake as well as your own." He paused for a long moment to look back at Hermione's still and shadowy form. "When Miss Granger has recovered, you are to come to my office immediately. We have important matters to discuss." "Yes, sir." "Good night, then." "Good night." The curtain closed for the last time, and Snape was finally alone with Hermione, pondering the Headmaster's mysterious words to him. Stay with her, it will come to you, he'd said when Snape asked how he should help Hermione. What the hell did that mean? With an exhausted sigh, Snape went to the chair on the left side of the bed and pulled it closer so he could see her clearly as he sat with her. He felt so tired suddenly, as if all his remaining energy had gone down a giant drain. He always felt this way after any contact with Voldemort - it took a great deal of skill and attention to conceal from the Dark Lord the fact that his loyalties lay with Dumbledore. But this time was different. This time, Hermione had somehow managed to deflect Voldemort's attack to herself, absorbing in Snape's stead the flood of evil energy that came with it. Although powerful, she didn't have Snape's years of advanced training in self-defense - hence her weakened condition. But what more can I do? thought Snape, watching her shadowy, sleeping face. I'm no healer. At best, I merely make repairs. Who knows what kind of damage he's done to her? Leaning forward, he reached out and took Hermione's left hand, and was shocked to find it deathly cold. Her entire arm felt the same. Pressing her chilled hand between his own, he rubbed it vigorously, and his roving thumb brushed the spot that had touched the Dark Mark as she'd held onto his arm. It was colder still, as if the center of her palm had been replaced by a piece of ice. Impulsively, Snape touched his lips to the icy spot. He shuddered at the sensation, which was very like that of the Dark Mark itself at its worst. The drain on his energy seemed to suddenly increase, and he felt his head start to fall forward onto the bed. His eyelids lost their battle and finally closed as an odd mixture of memories floated through his tired brain. Ugly scenes from his days as a Death Eater went by in a frantic rush, as if his mind couldn't wait to shove them back into their hiding place. Next, he found himself in the dining hall, watching from the staff table as a first-year student, a dark-haired girl, mounted the steps during the Sorting Ceremony. Her eyes quickly swept the faces of the assembled teachers, seeming to linger on his for just a second. She's full of light, he remembered thinking. Then himself, alone in his rooms, clutching a tiny red bottle and forcing himself to smash it in the fireplace. And the sudden attack of sneezing that had knocked from his hand the potion intended to snuff out his love for Hermione. Love, he thought drowsily.'' I love you, Hermione.'' He'd said those very words that night, supposedly for the last time. Vaguely, Snape realized that his head had been resting on the bed for a while now, and he was still firmly grasping Hermione's hand. He couldn't be sure in his current condition, but it seemed to him that some of the chill had left it. Good. That meant she was getting better. He thought he heard an echo in his mind of Hermione's voice speaking ancient words of power, words she should not yet know, but they came to him through a fog. As he strained to pick them out, sleep finally took him. >>> CHAPTER 03 Category:Blog posts Category:SS/HG Category:Blog Stories